


asshole

by antokilljoy



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Even loves him nonetheless, Isak is grumpy, M/M, Train meeting!AU, brief mentions of vilde, but ive had this in mind for quite some time so yeah, im gonna die, it's literally 3 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 11:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antokilljoy/pseuds/antokilljoy
Summary: You caught me filling a very inappropriate coloring book but somehow ended up lending me your sharpies instead of running the other way and I think I might be in love with youOr: Isak and Even meet on a train.





	asshole

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, once again posting at 3 am on a school day. I'm dying.  
> Anyway, the whole "Chemistry Olympics" is something we do in my country (it's basically a chemistry test for very clever ppl) and my friend's complaining about it inspired me to write this lol hope it ended well.  
> Hope you'll like it. Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!  
> (English is not my first language, so please forgive any mistakes)

"You must be really passionate about…  _assholes_ ”

 

Listen.  
What the fuck.

  
  
Isak was exhausted. For some reason he had been one among the three  _lucky students_ from his Chemistry class to be assigned to the security committee set up for the Chemistr High School Olympics (which, unsurprisingly, manages to be even more boring than how it sounds), which basically meant that he had had to wake up at six in the morning to catch a train to fucking  _Lillehammer_  just to watch over a couple dozens of teens while they proceeded to try and prove their scholastic worth over an exam that had no curricular relevance whatsoever and yet had been deemed of such relevance that even uni students had to check that everything went smoothly.  
  
Don’t get him wrong:  he loved chemistry. Hell, he wouldn’t have chosen Biology and Chemistry as majors, if he hadn't loved both deeply.  
He just wasn’t particularly fond of this… system. Of the idea of having to witness once again just how everything school-related had to carry a weight of high expectations-induced, anxiety-filled competition among the students even though everything technically had to be done in the name of  _learning_  and  _building abilities for the future_. Fuck that, honestly.  
All those kids –just a couple of years younger than him- reminded him of the hellish place he had had to live in for three years of his life, surrounded by little-know-it-alls who just had to constantly prove to the world how clever and better than anyone else they were while simultaneously being the biggest assholes on the planet to those kids who had the bad luck of finding themselves living through an existential crisis during those same three years. What could he say, finding out he was gay after being raised in a catholic environment for his entire life and having to deal with moving out at the age of sixteen because of his dysfunctional family (all while trying to maintain high grades, because God forbid! One shall never decide to put his mental health above everything else, right?) had turned him into one of those kids who absolutely despised high school and anything related to it. Which made this experience so much more amenable and brought him where he was sitting while hearing those words spoken by a very deep, curious voice.  
  
He was actually on the train back home, sat on one of those seats which formed a square with three others plus a table in the middle and which had made him pray for no one else to sit there (it was 9 pm on a thurstay, who in their right mind would have ever thought of taking the Lillehammer-Oslo train?).

  
  
And yet. Here  _he_  was.

 

A boy, probably a few years older than him, definitely taller than him, from what he could gather from seeing him the seat in front of his ( _holy shit, now it would be a bad time to dig up that height kink which had made him believe, when he was younger, that he simply didn’t like girls who were shorter than him, even though he later realized that he didn’t like girls at all, wouldn’t it?)_ , absolutely handsome with his gelled hair and clear, blue eyes was watching him curiously, which made Isak aware of what he was actually doing.  
  
The thing is: it had all started as a joke, just like most things in his life.  
Vilde had been complaining about him needing to swear less (who was she, his mother?) and actually chill more, otherwise he  _would never survive the stress levels of University, Isak, come on_ , and that’s why she had decided to buy him a coloring book.  
But not just any coloring book.  
A coloring book of  _swear words_. Which she had thought was actually hilarious, given the circumstances.  
  
At first, Isak had simply brushed it off by putting it in one of his drawers, but it had somehow found its way into Isak’s backpack on a day when he had been feeling particularly grumpy after getting a lower grade than he expected at one of his exams. That’s the reason why, sitting at a bench at a security distance from the main building of his university, he had thought that coloring in a big “fuck you” surrounded by several flowers and geometric shapes was just the perfect way to let go of all the stress he had been hoarding on his shoulders.  
It had basically become an habit, after that.  
  
He had just never actually considered how a full grown up (sort of) would have looked like to the eyes of anyone passing by while he filled the blanks on the page, which, in this case,  would have eventually given life to a very self-pleasing “ASSHOLE” surrounded by plants, flowers and small animals.  
  
Hence the reason why this handsome stranger asking that question didn’t sound out of place or, even,  _flirtatious, given the specific choice of words_ , but rather like the only reasonable thing to do in such a situation, so Isak will you please stop looking at him like he is the seventh wonder (which, admittedly, he kind of is) since he probably already thinks that you’re out of your goddamn mind—

 

“They have their appeal, I guess”

 

What.   
What the fuck was that.  
What did you just say, Isak.  
Out of all the possible scenarios, you literally decided to pull the sexually inappropriate card. Really?  
Fuck his life, honestly.  
That had been the only thing his brain had been able to come up with after having spent a good five seconds looking at the stranger’s face. Because—wow. Okay. He really should have paid attention to the moment  _he_  had sat in front of him (instead of being absorbed in hiw drawing like a five year old, come on, Isak) because if he had, he probably whould have had more time to brace himself for the sight before his eyes.  
The boy wasn’t just tall, blonde and with blue eyes to die for. He was literally breathtaking, with his slightly ruffled hair (he had probably ran and caught the train by luck, considering their state), slightly flushed cheeks ( _ohmygod_ ) and cheeky half smirk which nearly gave Isak an heart attack.  
He had basically found the best looking Norwegian James Dean lookalike,  while coloring in a damn book.   
Fuck. His. Life.  
  
And yet the unimaginable happened: the stranger laughed at his comment.  
At first he believed he was allucinating –hours of looking after tens of chemist-wannabe teenagers could have likely had that effect- but then he looked up into his beautiful face (after having lowered his gaze out of pure embarrassment) and found him actually laughing. Holy shit. That was the best day of Isak’s existence.  
  
After that, however, they both fell silent, and the weight of the “will he talk to me again, won’t he” limbo they found themselves in made his fingertips prickle and reach for his pencils once again, in order to pretend to be finishing his masterpiece.   
The thing is: he had never been a particularly outgoing person. He had, luckily, broken free from the shell of deep rooted insecurity and general social awkwardness he had lived in throughout his teenage years, but that didn’t mean that he was actually able to take the lead in social, potentially sentimental  _(yes, okay, he’s admitting it now)_  situations like this one. Hence the whole “I’m gonna pretend to be deeply invested in my activity even though your stare makes me want to sit on your lap and forget about anything bad that has ever happened in my life”. Yeah. He was quite the dramatic type, to be honest.  
  
It had probably been a good five minutes of mentally cursing himself for his apparent lack of any social skills whatsoever and also for having brought pencils instead of his good, old fine-tipped sharpies, since the formers were making his job way more difficult ( _how is this supposed to make me relax when it’s literally making me want to jump out of my skin--)_ , when he heard something brushing the table on which he was working.  
  
A pencil case.  
From the boy.  
  
Isak’s eyes were probably eloquent enough, because The Boy started talking again.  
  
“You probably want to use those. They’re better for this kind of...drawing”  
  
Which, okay, in other circumstances he would have probably asked who (apart from himself, obviously) would ever carry something like that around, but right then he only opened the zipper and took one of the sharpies –seriosuly,  _the coincidence_ \- in his right hand.  
  
“They look… expensive”  
“They are. I use them to work.”  
  
At that, he let go of the bright red in his hand and made it fall into the case again.  
  
“Oh shit, I’m sorry—“  
“It’s fine, I wouldn’t have offered if that had been a problem. Also, great masterpieces should only be painted with the best materials, especially when their subject is a... high, noble one as this one is” and then he grinned. Again. And probably attempted some sort of wink which wasn’t perfect in any way but which managed to make Isak nearly choke on his saliva.  
  
Really, he felt like he was back in kindergarter, with the whole exchange of  colors –even though kindergarteners probably didn’t talk about assholes, nor physical nor metaphorical ones. Yet.

  
  
Isak was probably about to mutter something along the lines “I’m sorry for looking like a toddler and sort of acting like one” but the stranger preceded him.

“I’m Even, by the way”  
“Uh, hi, I’m Isak”  
“May I ask you what managed to anger you so much that you had to let it all out on paper”  
Isak was quite taken aback by that. What was with the sudden confidence? Surprisingly enough, however, he found out that he really didn’t mind.  
  
“Looking after a group of teenagers for several hours makes it almost necessary, if you don’t want to take it all out on them”, he had wanted to sound as funny as possible, just to hear him – _Even-_ laugh, but as the words come out he realized just how creepy he sounded. “Well, I mean—“  
“You can’t stand the idea of being among people of your own age, then?” he sounded genuinely curious.

“I’m actually twenty”  
“Oh right, _I’m sorry_ ”, he was clearly lightheartedly mocking him, “you’ve already left the amenities of teenage drama and ‘it’s not a phase, mom’ behind you, then”  
  
_I never had the luxury of experiencing the latter but God, did I have my fair share of the former_ he wanted to say, but then didn’t, opting for “then how old are you, mr. ‘My Chemical Romance and Panic! At The Disco are just something from my past that I really want to get rid of even though I probably still tear up hearing the intro to Welcome to the Black Parade’?”  
  
Even looked actually, positively impressed, if that smile was anything to by, and Isak felt himself melt a little.  
  
“I really wanna ask you how you managed such an accuracy but I guess the emo phase is just something we all go through, sooner or later in our lives, so yeah, I’m twenty-two”  
He was probably gonna say something else when his phone rang.  
  
“Hey, Sonja” he heard Even say, quite fondly. _What the hell, Isak, you have no right to feel disappointed when you literally barely know his name and age._

“Yes, everything’s fine, we still probably have a couple of hours left, don’t worry, I know you have the early shift tomorrow, just go to bed, I’m going to call a taxi, yeah, goodnight”.  
  
After that it was quiet for a dozen of seconds, after which Isak just mentally said a big _fuck it_ and—

“Your girlfriend?”  
“Nah, not anymore, we’re just good friends now”  
“Still have to find your princess to rescue, then?” Noora would have probably slapped him for succumbing to such gender stereotyped clichés, but he _wanted_ to know, preferably in a way that didn’t give away too much the fact that he literally felt butterflies in his stomach from a stranger with whom he had talked with for about half an hour, maybe less.  
“Or knight in shiny armor, but yes, they’re nowhere to be found yet”  
  
_Did he just—_

“Oh” was the only thing Isak found himself able to say, but then an idea came up to him.  
It was probably (most definitely) very dumb, but, well, living with Noora for nearly five years, on and off, had had its results, and if the pin on Even’s jean jacket (a jean jacket, really, what a fucking cliché), which proudly stated “real men are feminists” was anything to go by, he probably wouldn’t have minded, so--  
  
“It’s so dumb, though, like, the whole dialectic opposition between a frightened princess and a brave knight, isn’t it?”  
And it probably wouldn’t have made sense to anyone else’s ears, and it most definitely sounded as desperate as Isak was feeling right then, but Even reacted with the brightest smile he had shown him until then  (as if he had been waiting for another topic to pop up, for something else to keep this _great conversation_ going) before actually answering, so he felt like it had been worth it.

 

\--

“Are you listening to what I’m saying, Isak?”  
  
To be fair, he honestly wasn’t, because after the first half hour he had just given up on trying to keep up with Even’s talk with witty, clever answers and had opted for a (definitely not) subtle, quiet observation of how beautifully Even’s features changed when he spoke, especially so once they had gone onto the purview of female representation in comics

( _Because he was actually an art student, hence why he went around with that pencilcase which now lied unused on the side of the table._  
  
“I actually thought you were one of us, when I was you using those pencils from afar”  
“Must have been greatly disappointed to find out that I’m actually a grumpy, scientific minded, almost-teenager, then”  
“No, I wouldn’t use the word ‘disappointed’”)  
  


But Isak was still exhausted, so it hadn’t taken long before his eyes had started to close on their own accord, gently lulled by Even’s deep voice.

  
“Of course I am”  
“Come on, those teenagers must have really worn you out. You’re going to Olso, right?”  
“Yeah”  
“Then you have about an hour left, you could sleep for a while. Don’t worry, I will wake you”  
  
In any other circumstances Isak would have never done that (because how could _anyone, ever_ ), but he was so, so physically -and emotionally?- drained, that he just complied, bent his head to the side in a seemingly confortable way and smiled sheepishly at Even with eyes almost closed, murmuring a soft “thank you”.  
Whatever. It was only gonna be for a few minutes.

\--

Appartently, however, his body hadn’t got the memo, because, according to the electronic speaker which awoke him, the train was at a 15 minutes distance from the Olso station, and therefore passengers where encouraged to start gathering their things.

After a few seconds of utter confusion, Isak woke up completely, noticing that Even was no longer sat in front of him, nor was his bag anywhere close. On his side of the table, however, there was a paper folded in two.  
He opened it and found a sketched portrait of a boy, seemingly asleep with a snapback on his head and a small smiling emoji in the low right corner.  
  
He probably would have felt happier about the swelling that such a sight generated in his chest if only that drawing hadn’t meant that Even had already got off the train. While Isak was asleep. At one of the previous stations. Without leaving anything behind (not even his number, for God’s sake). Mainly because Isak was a fucking idiot.  
  
It’s not like he had actually been hoping that something would happen (he had, actually), but actually realizing that there was nothing he could do literally crushed his heart.  
  
_I don’t always fall in love with people, but when I do, they’re strangers on a train and whom I’ll never see again._  
Now he even started thinking in meme.  
Amazing. Fucking wonderful.  
  
The voice once again reminded the passengers to get ready to get off, since the train was scheduled to arrive at the station in about ten minutes.  
  
Isak simply put his coloring book and his pencils away in his backpack before going towards the bathroom, with the intent to splash some water on his face and _get a fucking grip, come on, you’re not a child_.  
  
He had put his hand on the handle of the door leading to the tiny cubicle, when he felt it moving from the inside.  
  
_What the fuck—_

Once it opened, Isak found himself staring at Even, who was standing a few centimeters from him in all his tall glory with a kind, amused smile on his face.  
  
“You finally woke up, huh?”  
  
He didn’t know what to say. A sense of relief had washed over him once he had finally met again those beautiful blue eyes, so he couldn’t help but say, with the utmost sincerity,  
  
“I thought you had already left”  
  
Without moving from his position, Even slightly lowered his head to the right, deepening his smile.  
  
“Without saying goodbye?” an ironic puff, “I could never leave you like that”.  
  
It was probably the –fond, so sweetly fond- way he said the last phrase that made Isak say one last, final _fuck it_ to his general composure and to his insecurities, which made him let go of the backpack in his hand in order to delicately put his hands on either sides of Even’s face while coming closer to him.  
  
The contrast between his cold hands and Even’s hot cheeks and the intensity of Even’s gaze fixed onto his almost made him dizzy, which made his intentions falter just when he was so close to the other boy that their breaths where probably mingling.  
In the end, however, it didn’t matter, because it was Even who closed the distance between them after whispering “God, I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you aggressively filling the second ‘s’ in ‘asshole’”.  
  
Even’s lips where gentle on him, just like his hands cradling the back of his neck, but they felt earth shattering to Isak, who felt flutters in his stomach flaring up with every slow peck.  
  
It felt like a prelude to something, a quiet but firm _I’m here and I’m not keen on letting this go_. They had known each other for no more than three hours, and yet all Isak could think about was _I could get used to this._  
  
They parted once they heard the doors of the train opening.  
  
“Please, tell me no one’s coming to pick you up and you have no other plans in mind”  
“’Other’ than what?”  
“Other than hanging out with me, obviously” Even said, matter-of-factly, raising both his eyebrows “only if you want to, obviously” he concluded, suddenly self conscious.  
  
Isak couldn’t help but lean in to peck him one last time before taking Even’s hands and making for the door with him.  
  
Once outside, with the chill air hitting their heated bodies, Isak finally answered “I guess we could arrange something, yeah”.  
  
It was late in the evening of a weekday, both of them had classes to attend the next day and the only place which was still open was probably a McDonald’s (unless he had meant hanging out at _his house_ and well, that wasn’t such a bad thought), but Even’s bright smile and crinkled eyes were more than enough, for now.  
  
Hell, Isak thought they could be enough for quite some time.  
  
  
  



End file.
